


You Say Spark, I Say Soul

by sgri_sgri



Series: You Say Spark, I Say Soul [1]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Crossover, Culture Shock, Gen, culture clash, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5757136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgri_sgri/pseuds/sgri_sgri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s it like,” Spike asked Bumblebee when the two of them were enjoying a quiet moment on the ridges around the Ark. “Having a soul on the inside?” As if the small, squishy organics and giant, metal robots weren’t different enough already (His Dark Materials AU).</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Say Spark, I Say Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Insectivore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/584754) by [antistar_e (kaikamahine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaikamahine/pseuds/antistar_e). 



> This work covers the season 1 episodes "More Than Meets the Eye pt.1-3", "Roll For It" and "The Ultimate Doom pt. 1-3".

* * *

_"Great souls by instinct to each other turn, demand alliance, and in friendship burn." -_ **Joseph Addison**

* * *

 

The most boring day of Spike Witwicky’s life actually turned out to be the most exciting day of his life.

Well, maybe not the most boring day; at least he wasn’t in Literary Studies, listening to Mr. Vanderwauld talk about literary criticism readings. But it was still pretty boring, watching his dad and his coworkers work the oil rig machines and monitor a bunch of things that had gone over Spike’s head thirty seconds after Sparkplug had explained them.

How his dad and Moninne did this almost every day baffled him.

Liale ruffled her feathers on his shoulder, beady black eyes watching the workers and their daemons bustle to and fro. “Soooo, still want to go into the oil rig business?”

“Not particularly.” Thankfully, the noise levels that the oil rig gave off covered their conversation from any prying ears. Spike wasn’t ready to have this conversation with his dad yet. “Think it’s too late to go into the circus?”

Liale fixed him with an unamused stare. It was somewhat hilarious, coming from a small bluebird. “I am not Settling into an elephant.”

“Fine, you can Settle into an ostrich or something.” Spike quipped, grinning at his daemon’s scowl.

“Hey, Spike, Liale! Give us a hand! We’ve got to raise this bit and flush it out!” Sparkplug waved to the duo, standing near the drill bit in question. Thick, dark liquid dripped off of it and Liale gave a disgusted shudder.

“I take that back, I’m fine with joining the circus.” Spike laughed, gently ruffling her feathers. “Right, Dad. I’ll get the bailer!”

It was a two-person job, grabbing the bailer, and Liale jumped off his shoulder and changed into a great ape to help him lift it. Spike grinned at her disgusted expression as oil and grime rubbed itself onto her palms.

“I cannot wait for this day to be over.” She growled, carefully matching her human’s pace to haul it over to Sparkplug.

“You and me both.” He agreed.

“Oh my god, what is that?!”

Neither human nor daemon really had a chance to see what had drawn startled exclamations from the workers before the entire oil rig was shifting and groaning under the sudden weight that had fallen from the sky.

 _Okay,_ Spike decided as he watched, disbelieving giant metal robots land on the oil rig, staring down at them with crimson eyes. _Not the most boring day ever._

* * *

  _War of the Worlds_ had nothing on this. Everywhere Spike looked, there were giant robots, attacking and destroying whatever they could get their robotic hands on. Some of them had ripped open the oil lines and were turning the oil into a strange, glowing liquid trapped in translucent cubes. And even more giant alien robots had shown up, attacking the first group of robots and turning into an epic alien all-out brawl.

He had to applaud the oil workers’ courage. As soon as everyone had gotten past the _giant robots just landed on the oil rig_ surprise, they hadn’t just stood by letting the robots take their oil. Most were throwing whatever they could at the robots and doing their best to stop them, though the thick steel poles and heavy equipment didn’t do much more than bounce of their armor.

A startled yelp from Moninne, Sparkplug’s German shepherd daemon, tore Spike’s attention from two of the brawling robots, the biggest ones out of both groups. One of the smaller robots, a human sized one that was purple with a red visor, had Sparkplug in his grasp and pinned him against the wall of the oil rig, cutting off his air supply.

“STOP! LET GO OF MY DAD!” Rational thought, which had been screaming for him to get the hell away from the giant alien death robots, jumped out the window as he and Liale rushed at the human-sized robot. Vaguely, he could feel Liale shifting forms, the rage they both felt spurring her into a predatory form, a form that could harm and hurt, and a second later, a mighty boa constrictor was winding itself around the robot, muscles constricting to squeeze its prey to death. Spike fought to wrench the arm that was cutting of his father’s air supply away, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

_How strong are these guys?!_

He got his answer a moment later, when the robot’s unoccupied fist connected with his rib cage and sent him flying through the air. Fire exploded in his chest, whiting out his vision for a moment and ripping the air from his lungs.

Distantly, he could hear Liale shrieking, though from rage or pain or both, he didn’t know, and Sparkplug and Moninne yelling something, but then he was suddenly crashing into the water, drowning out all noise in a roaring rush.

All things considered, he decided fuzzily as he felt himself sink deeper into the water but was unable to get his body to move through the pain, death by giant robots was not a bad way to go. Better than having a vending machine fall on him or falling off a ladder. It would make a nice inscription on his tombstone: _Here lies Samuel “Spike” Witwicky, who died fighting a giant robot._

Well, maybe not giant, but no one needed to know that.

The simmering pain in his chest from where the robot had punched him suddenly turned into stabbing pain as something wrapped itself around him and yanked him upwards. Startled into awareness, Spike cried out reflexively and fought to get away from the thing that was causing him pain, panicking when water flooded into his mouth.

And then he broke through the surface of the water. Instinctively, he drew in a breath of air, desperate to fill his starved lungs despite the pain it caused.

“Spike, Spike, son are you alright?!” Sparkplug was holding him, one thick arm wrapped around his son’s chest to keep them both afloat.

“Dad?”

“Spike!” Liale’s voice was somewhere near him and suddenly, the rubbery, wet body of a dolphin was pushing itself against him insistently.

“Liale.” He reached out, laying his hand on the daemon. The physical contact with his daemon helped ground him, sharpening his focus until he was mostly aware again. He had a sinking suspicion he had bruised most of his ribs, if not broken some. “Guys, what’s going on?”

“It’s okay, Spike, we’re safe-” Sparkplug started to say.

And then the oil rig came down on top of them.

* * *

 “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sparkplug asked him again for the eightieth time, tugging the shock blanket even tighter around his son. His ribs and Liale protested the movement and he batted Sparkplug’s hand away.

“I’m _fine_ , Dad, I promise.” His gaze wandered back over to the giant robots standing on the shore’s edge, talking to the authorities. In the distance, smoke from the destroyed oil rig and fires was billowing into the atmosphere.

Hopefully Mr. Blackrock had alien robot insurance protection for his rigs.

“It’s like Iron Giant but in real life.” Liale murmured, barely poking her mousy head above the protection of the shock blanket. “Where are their daemons?”

“Do giant alien robots even have daemons?” He wondered. Liale was right though; he saw nothing that indicated a daemon partner on any of the brightly colored robots. It was disturbing in a way he couldn’t place and he almost looked away, like he had just seen something shameful. But they were just too cool to stop staring at, especially the big red and blue one that had saved him and his father from certain death.

“I don’t know; this is the first I’ve ever met giant robots or aliens.” Liale peered down at Moninne. “Can you sense any daemons?”

Moninne didn’t answer, staring at the robots with Sparkplug, who had a thoughtful look on his face. “Dad?” Spike asked. That look meant Sparkplug had an idea and he was not about to be dissuaded.

“Spike, come with me.” He said suddenly, getting up with his blanket and Moninne and walking in the direction of the robots.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Spike stumbled after him, hissing between his teeth as the movement jarred his ribs. “Dad!”

But Sparkplug gave no indication of hearing him, walking quickly and purposefully towards the robots. One of the doctors ran after them, yelling “Sir, you’re not supposed to be moving, sir-!” Sparkplug and Moninne ignored her too and Spike avoided her gaze, quickly tailing after them.

Liale withdrew further and further into the blanket the closer they got until she was completely buried and hidden from sight. Their approach hadn’t been missed by the robots, who turned and watched them approach calmly with blue eyes.

The other ones had red eyes, like color of fresh blood. Spike vaguely wondered what the difference was.

“Excuse me, sir, you need to return to the ambulances.” One of the authorities, a captain or a commander Spike would guess from the way he held himself and the décor on his uniform, held up a hand to stop them. His daemon, a pitbull, leveled her gaze at Moninne, who’s hackles went up but stayed quiet, fixing the daemon with a stare of her own. “We have the situation under control.”

The others in the group didn’t look or act nearly as confident as their commander. Most had shied away from the robots as far as was politely acceptable, with their daemons hidden or placed to keep them out of danger. Spike couldn’t blame them; now that they were closer, the sheer size and awe of being this close to alien robots was having an effect on him too. He was suddenly very aware of his tiny size and their ability to turn him into a bloody smear on the ground with just a sharp movement of their hand and wondered what it must be like to be so big.

“They don’t have daemons.” Liale whispered from the safety of the blankets. Daemons could sense other daemons if they were close enough, regardless of size or hiding place. Most daemons had a favorite place to tuck themselves away if they were small enough. If Liale couldn’t sense them, that meant there were none to be found.

Spike suddenly didn’t blame the other officers for backing so far away from the robots. That sense of wrongness crawled over his skin again, making him want to run and hide away from these daemonless robots. Liale squeaked softly within the confines of the shock blanket, trying to burrow closer to Spike.

All sentient creatures had daemons; it was the sign of a soul, that you were alive and human and _normal_. Not having a daemon was a perversion against nature, a neon sign that screamed to others that something was wrong with you. Spike knew that there were people who were Severed, who lived despite losing their daemon, their soul, but they were the social pariahs of society, rejected and feared.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

“—am telling you to go back to the ambulances, sir.” The commander was starting to sound pissed that this middle-aged oil rig worker was not listening to him, but when Sparkplug got something in his mind, he was unstoppable. Spike honestly thought a rhinoceros daemon would have been better suited for Sparkplug, sometimes. “You are not allowed to be here.”

 “I wanted to thank you,” Sparkplug said, completely ignoring the man as he turned to face the red and blue robot, the one who seemed to be the leader. “For saving me and my son. We would have died if you hadn’t been there.”

Something about the robot’s gaze on him made Spike want to suddenly stand at attention and yell, “Sir!” He resisted, though he found himself standing straighter under that gaze.

“You’re welcome. I must apologize that you were placed in danger in the first place; had we been able to intervene sooner, it could have been avoided.”

It was not the first time Spike had heard him speak; he had been talking to his comrades when they were pulling them from the water, the deep bass vibrating through his armor and all the way into the humans that clung to his shoulders. But it was the first time that voice had been directed at them personally. It was powerful in a way Spike couldn’t describe, piercing him at the core of his being.

 _They’re not soulless_. They were moving and acting and thinking, just like a person with a soul would. They weren’t zombified beings, unaware of the outside world or unfeeling machines.

It didn’t make any sense. There was nothing for him to understand; this wasn’t how it worked in human culture. It was like the little receptors in his brain were coming back with “ERROR: INFORMATION NOT FOUND” messages the more he tried to think about a daemon-less race. It shouldn’t have been possible: everyone had daemons.

…didn’t they?

“Nothin’ much we coulda done there, Prime. The Cons woke up ‘fore us.” A black and white robot, one with a blue visor, spoke up from behind him.

“What are Cons?” Spike didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Prime, or that’s what the black and white one had called him, and some of the others looked at him. He squirmed uncomfortably, not sure if he had said something he wasn’t supposed to. Liale bristled under the blanket.

“Decepticons.” Prime explained. “They are the ones who attacked the oil rig and tried to harm you.”

“What does that make you then? They looked just like you.” Moninne asked.

“We are Autobots.” Another bot, a white and black one with what looked like wings on his back spoke up. Unlike the others, his gaze was almost white, flickering like lightning as he spoke. “We have been fighting the Decepticons for almost a 100,000 vorns now, long before your planet or species even existed.” His voice reminded Spike of Mrs. Galloway, the no-nonsense assistant principle with the tarantula daemon.

“How’d you end up here on Earth?” The commander standing next to Sparkplug looked like he wanted to yell at them to shut up and leave, but Prime hadn’t told them to leave and so he kept his silence, glaring at the man.

“Our ship crash landed on Earth, approximately four million years ago by your standards. We have been in deep stasis ever since and woke up only recently, and it was fortunate we awoke when we did. Had we not, the Decepticons would have done far more damage to your world than just destroying a single oil rig.”

The absolute certainty in his voice made Spike shiver as images of burning cities and broken bodies crept into his mind.

“Prime,” Sparkplug said, his voice startling Spike out of his morbid thoughts and with a determination that made him nervous. “My son and I would like to offer our help. We may not be able to fight the Decepticons,” and Spike noticed his father’s hand subtly go to his throat, where the bruising from the Decepticon’s grasp was evident. “But we can sure as hell help you adjust to Earth.”

* * *

 Spike had honestly expected Prime to decline their offer in the stunned silence that had followed, but much to his own surprise, he had agreed. It had left him speechless and feeling like he was in a dream. There was no way giant robots had accepted help from two humans that weren’t even that important.

“Dad, why’d you offer our help?” He finally asked after the doctors came back and continued to fuss over them. “We can’t do anything to help.” It was a depressing thought, but it was reality. He remembered how powerless he had been before the small purple one and he had barely done anything.

Sparkplug merely grinned at his son over the thermometer in his mouth. “Would you want to turn down the chance to work with the first aliens on Earth?” Moninne asked. There was a distinctly pleased gleam in her eye as she spoke, mirroring the one in her human’s eyes.

“Well, no, but what if they had said no?” Spike pressed.

“But they didn’t.” Moninne countered. “And we are now liaisons for Earth.”

When Prime took all of them back to the _Ark_ (with much protesting from Red Alert, their paranoid Security Director), their arrival was met with mixed reactions from the Autobots. Some, like the ever-proud Sunstreaker and Tracks, openly distained them, while others were indifferent or wary of the small organics and their daemons.

“’S not right,” a large red one, Ironhide, growled when Sparkplug and Spike explained the concept of a daemon to the assembled gathering of Autobots. “If yer soul is like a spark, it’s supposed tah be in yer frame, not outside of it.”

A couple of other bots had nodded their heads in agreement, low murmurs rippling through the group.

“What do you expect?” A white and blue bot, one with streamlined plating and an attitude that immediately reminded Spike of snobbish rich kids, spoke up. “They’re organics. Nothing about them is ‘right’.”

“These organics,” Sparkplug said, looking torn between annoyance and amusement that everyone was speaking over the heads. “Can hear you, you know.” Moninne looked less amused, hackles up as she glared at the bot.

The snobbish bot turned to look at them with gold optics. “I’m well aware of that.” He responded icily before turning and heading back into the belly of the ship.

The whole conversation had Spike questioning whether it was really a good idea or not to offer their help to the Autobots. But a few, like Jazz and Blaster and Bumblebee, had taken a liking to the humans and were friendly with them. They weren’t many in comparison to the others, but Bumblebee had assured them it would just take time for the others to adjust to the idea when he had asked about it. Sparkplug had assured him of the same thing.

“We’re very different from them, Spike.” He had pointed out, late one night in the auto-body shop. “Not only are we not even the same species, but we even have different souls from them. It’s going to take time for everyone to adjust, both human and Autobot.”

“You think they really do have their daemons inside of them?” Spike asked, handing his father the appropriate wrenches to clean as he swung his feet.

“Why not?” It amazed him how nonchalant his father seemed about the whole issue. The very fact that these beings were twice their size and fundamentally different seemed to roll off of him like water on a duck’s back. “They have no daemons, and if they say they have sparks, why shouldn’t we believe them?”

“It just seems…wrong.” Spike said. “They don’t act like they’re soulless, but everyone says they are.”

Sparkplug didn’t say anything, continuing to clean the wrenches for a long moment. Spike wondered if his father hadn’t heard him, but then he spoke. It was in a serious, quiet tone, one that immediately made Spike and Liale, who had been lounging nearby in the shape of a snake, focus on him.

“Spike, there’s something that you have to understand if you want to be able to connect with the Autobots. Everyone is different, and every culture is different. The Autobots are even more different because they’re not from Earth, and we’re just as different to them. It’s not our place to question their beliefs and understandings of themselves because we aren’t them. And no matter what we do, we can’t change that. The only thing we can do is accept them as they are and learn to find the common ground between us. Whether or not they have daemons as we understand them is irrelevant; what we have to do now is accept their beliefs and move forward in understanding of our differences. It’s the only way we’re going to be able to work together, and it will require lots of understanding and patience with one another.”

* * *

“What’s it like,” Spike asked Bumblebee when the two of them were enjoying a quiet moment on the ridges around the _Ark_. “Having a soul on the inside?”

“I’m not really sure.” The scout replied. After being scheduled to be the Witwicky’s main guardian, he, Spike and Liale had become close friends. He didn’t seem offended by the question, merely contemplative. It was one of his best qualities and one that made him the best suited to guard their human allies; very few things seemed to personally offend Bumbebee. “I don’t know anything else.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I guess it’s like always having a ball of warmth in the middle of your chassis, like a fire. Most of the time you’re not even aware of it because it’s always there, safely protected behind your armor.” He gently touched the armor plating over his chest, right where his spark was. “What’s it like to have a spark on the outside?”

Spike had to consider that for a moment, staring at Liale who stared back as they thought. “Kind of the same, I guess.” He finally said, reaching out to scratch Liale’s ears. “Except, you’re always aware of it. You have to be, to keep it safe. Your daemon is always with you, they become your best friend and stick with you all the way to the very end.”

“They become your best friend, huh?” Bumblebee commented, shifting his gaze to the sky. The weather outside of the Ark was beautiful; it was still high summer, and the Earth was alive with green all around Mt. St. Hilary. “I have to admit, I’m kind of jealous of that. I don’t have too many of my friends left because of the war.” He looked down at Liale. “Want to become my new best friend?”

Liale huffed a laugh. “I’ll pass, thank you. This one is enough to keep me on my toes for the rest of our lives.” She pushed her head against Spike’s leg, who laughed and shook his head.

“Thanks, Liale. Glad to know what you really think of me.”

“You’re the one who’s nearly drowned three times this last week alone.”

“It isn’t my fault Rumble’s out to get me!” Spike protested, but he reached out and scratched behind her ears. “And besides, I’m still here thanks to Optimus and Hound.”

“True, but I would feel better if you stayed away from water for a while. A daemon can only handle so much. At this point, I’m going to die of stress before I even Settle.”

“Don’t worry, Liale.” Bumblebee said, grinning at the daemon. “I’ll help you keep an eye on him.”

“Hopefully between the two of us, we can get him through high school in one piece.” Liale said dryly, but her tail thumped against the hard ground in amusement.

“You two are awful.” Spike groaned, but it was good-naturedly as he listened to the scout and daemon laugh.

A comfortable silence descended on the group, but a question nagged at the back of his head, one that had been there since the conversation with his father in the tool shed. Cautiously, choosing his words carefully, Spike spoke.

“Bumblebee…how did you end up fighting in the war?” During their “orientation” at the _Ark_ , both humans and daemons had gotten a quick summary on the war and how it had started: the warframes, the future Decepticons, decided they wanted to be in control and many resisted the takeover. Spike knew it had to be more complicated than that, especially for each bot fighting, but he knew it was too early for him to start asking those very personal questions.

Bee looked down at him. A smile sat on his silver faceplates, but Spike got the sense that it was a fake one, or at the very least, forced. It was only a gut feeling; Spike had only a week of experience reading Giant Robot Facial Expressions since the oil rig adventure had happened. (Geez, had it really only been a week? It felt like a year.) “Are you sure you want to hear about it? It’s long and not very pretty.”

Spike shrugged, acting a lot calmer than he felt. “I’m in this for the long-run; I might as well find out now.”

The smile grew slightly more genuine. “So, a long time ago on our planet Cybertron, I worked as an Enforcer, which is kind of similar to a police officer…” 

* * *

 Einat had Settled young. Spike had always figured it had something to do with the accident Chip had gone through when he was young, the one that took his legs away from him. It had been a hard time, watching his best friend lose mobility of his legs when he was five years old. Sparkplug and Moninne had to sit Spike and Liale down and explain to them that Chip wouldn’t be able to play with them like he used to before, but it hadn’t been until Chip and Einat had told Spike and Liale that it really made sense to Spike. Liale had kept trying to get the other daemon to play with her, but Einat hadn’t been willing to go much further than Chip’s lap for several weeks afterwards.

Four years later, not long after Spike had lost his mother, Einat had Settled into a honey badger.

 “A honey badger, it’s a good sign.” Spike overheard one of Chip’s relatives, an aunt or something, say. Her daemon, a large corn snake, was coiled on her arm as she spoke to an older man and young adult. Sparkplug and Spike had been invited to the party thrown for him and Einat after she Settled. Chip’s family was very nice and Spike enjoyed talking to them, but he mostly stayed with his friend and talked with him. They couldn’t go outside because it was dark, so they had to sit around and listen to the adults talk. And they could talk for a very long time. “They’re powerful animals, very tenacious.”

“I’ve heard that National Geographic named the honey badger the most fearless animal on the planet. They’ve taken down bears and other animals ten times their size.” The young adult said, her cat daemon eyeing an unattended glass on the table nearby curiously.

“That’s Christopher for you,” the older gentlemen said. Spike vaguely recognized him as one of Chip’s grandfathers. “He may not say much and he may not look like it, but he’s a fearless one. That boy will always do what’s right.”

Spike had to agree. Chip always stood up for what was right, even if he was made fun of or bullied. And if anyone bullied him, Chip never fought them with his fists. He just outsmarted them and got them to stop through sheer cleverness. It didn’t matter how big the bullies were; Chip always did what was right.

It didn’t surprise him that Chip wanted to help the Autobots protect the Earth and stop the Decepticons. Never mind the fact that they had several feet and tons on him, along with extremely powerful exoskeletal armor and weaponry covering nearly every part of their bodies. They were hurting humanity and the Autobots, and they needed to be stopped.

“You’re the craziest person I know,” Spike declared after Chip and Einat returned safely from being held captive by the Decepticons, pulling him in a quick hug. His best friend had not only protected the antimatter formula for as long as he could against Soundwave, who was easily one of the most powerful Decepticons, but he had protected Prowl and Bluestreak from certain death against the Seekers. Chip had officially one-upped him as the Coolest Human on the _Ark_. “Are you two alright?”

“A little sore,” Chip admitted, smiling at Spike. “The Decepticons weren’t particularly gentle and Einat wouldn’t listen to me when I told her not to attack them.”

The honey badger in question scoffed from the floor. “Forgive me for trying to protect you. They could have killed you in a few seconds flat.”

Liale peered at Einat, eyes wide and feathers fluffed on Spike’s shoulder. “Einat, did you _fight_ Ravage?”

The honey badger harrumphed and turned her head, refusing to look at Liale. Chip shook his head. “No, but she tried. Ravage would have killed her, no questions asked.” And by extension, Chip. Spike tried not to flinch at the thought.

“It is unlikely that she would have.” Prowl countered, drawing the humans out of their reunion. He sat on a medical slab as Hoist worked at something on the side of Prowl’s head, something that looked like a computer terminal but far more complex than anything Spike had ever seen. The pulsing lights and circuit patterns in the terminal reminded Spike of a human brain. “Soundwave is not a fool, as much as he hates Earth. He needed the antimatter formula in your brain, Chip, and could not risk harming you. He is aware of the connection between a daemon and their human and therefore would take precautions to ensure Einat’s protection.”

“True.” Chip agreed. “They just seem to take so little interest in us or what we do. I guess we forget that they aren’t actually stupid, regardless of what Starscream does.”

“That’s the Cons for you,” Hoist said, fiddling with wires feeding into Prowl’s processor module. “If it works in their favor, they’ll know everything about it. They consider humans beneath them because you’re organics; to them, you’re primitive lifeforms and not worth their time.”

“Thanks, Hoist.” Spike retorted dryly. He grinned at the assistant medic, however, and received a grin in return.

“I’m just saying it like it is, Spike.”

And then Ratchet came through the medbay doors, looking distinctly pissed as he made a beeline for them.

 “Don’t you ever,” Ratchet growled as he approached the humans and Prowl, pointing a finger at Chip and Einat. “Dare pull a stunt like that again. Do you know how dangerous that was? No, of course not, because you haven’t been trained to handle Cybertronian software. You could have tripped his firewall programs, or slagged a line of coding and created a cascading series of failures inside of his battle computer. Of all of the Primus-forsaken endeavors I have ever seen in my existence…”

The medic went on like this for almost an hour; it had been awhile since he had heard a rant of this fury directed at anyone else besides the Twins or the other regular bots of Ratchet’s ire. Spike and Liale had been on the receiving end of Ratchet’s rage before and it was not an experience either of them were eager to repeat. Having thirty feet and several tons of metal raging at you was enough to discourage him from doing something stupid for the rest of his life.

Chip and Einat, on the other hand, were taking their licks like champions.

His best friend was looking suitably shamefaced but also curiously intrigued at all of the medical and technical terms Ratchet was throwing around. His daemon was glaring up at the medic from his lap, growling low in her throat and fur puffed up on her hackles.

“I hope Einat isn’t stupid enough to think she can fight Ratchet and win.” Liale murmured to her human, keeping her voice low to prevent the irate medic from hearing her on her perch.

“I think that’s why he’s holding her.” Spike replied. As fierce as the honey badger was, she would never hurt her human.

“Ratchet,” Prowl was saying. Despite the fact that he had the side of his head hanging open and someone rooting around in it, he looked completely unruffled. “It was a necessary tactic, and one that served all of us well. I am not injured, and Chip was able to prevent the Seekers from off-lining Bluestreak and I. Without his efforts, the anti-matter formula would have fallen into the hands of the Decepticons.”

“I decide whether or not you’re injured.” Ratchet snapped as he ran another scan over both the Second-in-Command and the human and daemon. The medic had decided, in no uncertain terms, that he would be the first to examine them and ensure their welfare. Never mind that they had no way to actually treat a human or daemon if they were injured or damaged, but that didn’t stop Ratchet. The humans were his patients, and he would be damned if he let someone else take care of them before he did. “And I have decided that no one will ever be allowed to pull a half-processor stunt like that again.”

At those words, Chip ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Ratchet. I never meant to put Prowl in danger.”

 The medic surprised all of them when he stopped his rant, looked down at the human and daemon, and uttered a gruff, “You did do well, though. For a human.”

The tactician twitching doorwings were the only indication he was surprised at the medic’s words. Chip smiled up at Ratchet, and grinned even more when the medic followed up with, “But you still need to be taught properly so you don’t slag someone’s processors next time you try.”

* * *

 Ignorance was bliss, as the old saying went.

Spike had fallen into a kind of thinking that the Autobots were unbeatable. Yes, he had seen them when they went to Ratchet to get themselves patched up and he knew that the Decepticons could over power them, but in the end, they always seemed to be able to pull themselves out and get back up. He could count the number of times the _Ark_ really had been in danger on both hands.

That bubble of ignorance burst the day Sparkplug and Moninne were kidnapped.

On a good day, Soundwave’s cassettes were difficult to keep out of the _Ark_ or catch considering their small size and evasive techniques, but with Megatron successfully diverting the Autobot’s attention with an attack on the Maharaja’s powerplant, they had been able to snatch Sparkplug and Moninne right out from under their noses.

Spike was no idiot, contrary to what some people believed due to bringing Soundwave directly into the _Ark_ during their early days of friendship (both humans proceeded to get a detailed briefing on the Decepticons so the same mistake would not be made again). The fact that Sparkplug and Moninne had been specifically kidnapped by the Decepticons meant only bad things for the human and daemon.

The terrible possibilities began to form, unbidden, in his mind and a growing sense of horror bloomed in his chest. Bumblebee and the others were still speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear them over the roaring of the blood in his ears.

And then Liale was there, slipping smoothly from her canine form near his feet into a koala, clinging tightly to him and pulling him out of the horrible scenarios. Her warmth and familiarity grounded him, pulling him back to the present.

“He’s gone, Liale.” Spike croaked, so softly no one but his daemon heard him. “He’s _gone._ ”

“I know, I know.” She murmured. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” He clung to her with shaking arms, trying to hold on through the maelstrom of confusion in him.

 “Spike, Liale.” Bumblebee said. Both human and daemon stared up at him, twin looks of despair on their face.

“We’re going to get Sparkplug and Moninne back. We’re going to save them.” The normal sunshine-bright smile on the scout’s faceplates was gone, replaced by a serious look Spike rarely saw on his friend. Bumblebee was now officially in Special Ops mode, a highly trained soldier ready to do whatever was necessary to win this fight.

Spike didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything past the emotions in his throat; he just nodded at Bumblebee before closing his eyes and burying his face in Liale’s fur. His eyes burned with unshed tears, but he refused to let them out. Crying wouldn’t help get his father back, and he needed to be strong. The daemon, however, continued to stare at the Autobot, eyes boring deeply into his, before she spoke.

“Thank you, Bee.”

* * *

 Bumblebee kept his promise, in the end. A successful raid on the _Nemesis_ recovered Sparkplug and brought him safely back to the _Ark_ , but it failed to turn up his daemon. No one knew what Sparkplug was going to be like when he woke up, but he had surprised them all when he seemed almost…normal. He did suffer from bouts of lethargy, a burning in his chest and seemed to zone out too frequently for it to be healthy, but considering that they had no idea where Moninne was, this was nothing short of a miracle. Sparkplug should by all means be nothing but a drooling mess or screaming in constant agony.

The only problem was that Sparkplug had no idea where his daemon was.

“I don’t know what they did, what that man did.” His eyes were wide and his breathing labored as he reflected on the past. “He kept touching Moninne, kept poking her and examining her…and then they took her away…” He looked at Spike in horror, not really seeing him. “Spike, I can’t feel her. Where is she?”

It unnerved Spike to see his father so hollow and fearful. The last time he had seen Sparkplug like this was when his mother had died in the skiing accident, when he was nine years old. His throat went dry and his heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stared back at his father, desperate for an answer. “I don’t know, Dad.” He croaked out. “I don’t know.”

“He has her, he has her somewhere.” Sparkplug said, eyes on the ceiling. “He has her. Where did he take her?”

“Who’s ‘he’, Sparkplug?” Bumblebee asked, voice gentle but flat as he watched his charge. But Sparkplug didn’t answer, breathing heavily and eyes distant and unfocused.

Bumblebee and Liale became his rock during those days after they got Sparkplug back, holding him together as they tried to figure out what was going on.

And then Sparkplug went insane.

* * *

 “He” turned out to be a scientist, Henry Arkeville. It had been Chip and Einat, through Dr. Alcazar, that they had discovered the human’s involvement in the Decepticon plans. He had no morals, experimenting on humans and daemons to uncover the deeper connection between the two entities. In particular, his unethical research of cutting the bond between daemon and human was what finally had him stripped of his professional title and standing, and he had been imprisoned for crimes against humanity. It hadn’t been long, however, before the man had been able to escape and retrieve his daemon, a deep-sea angler, before disappearing into the human underground, vanishing from all human records.

Spike had refused to remove himself from the senior officer debriefing about this man, despite all of the horrible information it dredged up. Chip, in turn, had refused to leave his best friend to deal with this alone. Spike could feel the officers watch in pity as they listened to the horrific things he had done to both daemons and humans, most of which resulted in death or Severance between daemon and human, but he didn’t have enough strength to care.

This man had Moninne and his father in his grasp, and that was enough to nearly take his legs out from under him.

_Dad…_

“Did he do that to my dad and Moninne?” Spike asked very quietly. He felt like he was watching himself from a distance, the words coming out without his conscious direction. “Did he Sever them?” ~~~~

“We…we don’t know Spike.” Ratchet sounded weary as he answered him. “There’s no way of knowing.”

“There is a very strong possibility that is not the case.” Prowl spoke up. Spike turned his head to face the tactician, mildly surprised to hear him speaking to him; he and Prowl rarely talked. Liale popped her head out of the collar of Spike’s shirt, snake eyes on the tactician as well. “In most cases of Severance, both the daemon and the human became unresponsive to outside stimuli. Such was not the case with Sparkplug.” His optics were near white as he worked to coordinate efforts after the Decepticon attack, reminding Spike of the first time he had seen the tactician on the shoreline all of those months ago.

It was true, Spike reflected; Sparkplug had been walking and talking when he had regained consciousness. But he had suddenly turned violent and attacked Spike and Liale, hurting both and dropping the Autobot’s weaponry and security mainframe before retreating with the Decepticons, leaving behind his confused son and friends.

_“The Decepticons will triumph! Join me, Spike! Join the conquerors!”_

_“Dad, this is insane! What are you doing?!”_

_“Don’t call me that!”_

Red Alert was predictably crying ‘spy’ and was convinced that Sparkplug, and Moninne, had been Decepticon spies all along. But their research on Arkeville gave them strong evidence that something else was going on. Sparkplug didn’t behave like that, but if his daemon was being harmed or manipulated elsewhere…

“He’s right, you know. I never got the sense from Sparkplug he was Severed. It’ll be okay.” Liale assured him.

“She’s right. We’ll help you, Spike.” Einat affirmed.

“You’ve got all of us. You don’t have to do this alone.” Chip reminded him, laying a comforting hand on his friend’s forearm.

“Indeed, Spike. We will do all that we can to stop Arkeville and return your father and Moninne safely to the _Ark_.” Optimus spoke from the head of the table.

A tired but hopeful smile worked itself onto the boy’s face and he gently petted his daemon.

“You guys are right. T-thank you, for trying to help my dad.”

It was only a moment later the sirens blared to life, catapulting everyone into action. The Cons were on the move again.

* * *

 Arkeville escaped, in the end.

It wasn’t surprising, considering all of the chaos that had been going on when he and Starscream escaped. It had been quite the past couple of days, with Cybertron nearly being pulled into Earth’s orbit and all of the damage that had done to the Earth, freeing the other humans Arkeville had captured, and the hydroelectric dam Megatron and his lackeys had constructed to harvest energon.

The whole thing had been a PR disaster of epic proportions. Though Cybertron had never actually gotten pierced the space bridge’s horizon to throw Earth out of alignment with her own gravity, the shockwaves created by Megatron’s attempt to bring Cybertron through space to their location had created disasters all over the world. Numerous coastal cities had been badly damaged, some even completely wiped out. And there was rioting and panic to deal with that had set in when people looked up to the sky and saw a giant portal ripping it open. It brought out the end of the world people and religious fanatics who cried that Judgement Day was upon them, and it also brought out the enemies of the Autobots in full force, calling for their immediate removal from Earth. It had everyone’s hands full trying to take care of it, and those Autobots not involved in dealing with PR damage were out wherever they were needed, trying to repair cities and damage done in the name of goodwill and peace.

And yet, in the middle of all of the insanity, Spike was just grateful to have Sparkplug and Moninne back.

Both humans and their daemons had been told in no uncertain terms that they were forbidden from helping with clean-up or coming on mission with the Autobots for a while in order to give them both the chance to recover from the ordeal. Spike mildly protested, but anyone could see there was little heat behind it. He and Sparkplug needed a chance to process what had happened, to come to terms with the atrocities committed against their family.

Spike looked up from where he had been sitting next to his father when Jazz entered the medbay, who was resting on a small make-shift bed with Moninne pressed against him. He knew he needed to rest just as much as his father did, but his nerves and a fear of waking up only to find that the daring rescue into the Con base had just been a dream. Liale sat near his feet, curled up around them protectively in the form of a sheepdog.

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” The saboteur asked with a grin, albeit a tired and toned-down one. It had been a tiring couple of days on everyone and most of the officers hadn’t had a chance to properly rest. Ratchet had left to try and go convince Prowl to power down for a few hours, as the tactician had been going for almost a week straight with no rest since the fiasco with Arkeville had begun.

“Better.” Spike answered honestly, watching his father and daemon sleep. “It’s nice to know they’re finally back to normal. We owe you guys so much.”

“Hey now, don’t sell yourself short, kiddo.” Jazz reminded him, coming up next to Spike and Liale. “You were right there with us in the base and helpin’ stop the Cons.”

The boy smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t do hardly anything. I mean, I got stuck in that trap.” He pointed out.

“Ahh, give it time. Yer still growing up and still learnin’; Ah bet when yer older, you’ll be a human to fear.”

Spike chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Sure Jazz, whatever you say.” He sighed. “I wish we had known what Arkeville had done to them, and to the others. I mean, I’m so grateful they’re not actually Severed, but to be able to achieve that kind of distance and control over all of those people…”

All of the research Arkeville had been conducting on the other humans and Sparkplug had been destroyed when Starscream fled with him. Precious little remained of the data, and not even the advanced Cybertronian technology could pull much out of the ruins. Even worse yet (or better, at least for those who had endured it), none of the humans or daemons could remember what had been done to them. The memories were extremely fuzzy or completely gone, leaving everyone in confusion about what Arkeville had done exactly.

Although, from what they had been able to recover in the labs Arkeville had held Sparkplug and the other humans in, maybe it was best that it was gone. Manganese-titanium had a violent history, and if past studies were correct, it was one of the few materials that could sever the bond between human and daemon without immediately killing either side.

“Ah hear ya.” The saboteur paused, head cocked in a gesture Spike recognized as having a commlink open. “Hold on, Ah gotta go help Ratchet. Prowl’s tryin’ tah lock him out of his office.”

Spike grinned tiredly, shaking his head at the tactician’s antics. “I’ll see you around. Thank you, Jazz. For everything.” The saboteur grinned and left with a wave, leaving Spike alone again with his father.

_“Thanks guys for not giving up on us. Especially you, Spike.”_

_“Dad, it’s like you taught me: you never quit on the people you love.”_

The boy smiled, the first proper one in several days. His mind went back to the conversation he had had with Sparkplug in the garage almost half a year ago, lamenting on whether or not the Autobots would accept him and Sparkplug despite their huge differences in both body and mind. His father had urged him to have patience and that anything worth having required effort and time.

And now here they were, friends and liaisons for Earth’s first aliens. It was dangerous and exciting, full of ups and downs and culture clashes, but it was everything Spike wanted it to be. It felt right, right in a way he couldn’t put into words, like he was meant to do this.

“Did you feel that?” Liale asked quietly next to him. “It feels like…”

“Yeah.” Was all he said as he reached out to scratch Liale’s ears, feeling something deep inside of his chest Settle as Liale’s form changed permanently into a small, white bird.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you guys, thank you so much for reading this story! I started this in December of last year and only just finished it with the help of the lovely stickytablet who was my beta reader. They are located on tumblr and please go check them out: they have amazing artwork and are just amazing. This story was inspired by the amazing antistar_e’s fic ‘The Insectivore’, so please go check that one out as well! Also, I am on Tumblr as well as your-next-top-bookwriter so if you have questions, comments, concerns, headcanons or anything else, come drop by and shoot me an ask! I'm going to be posting information about YSSISS there shortly so please go check it out! :)
> 
> This was the first major story I finished and decided to publish so this is a big landmark for me! Hopefully I did the story in my mind justice on paper. And, to answer your questions, yes I do plan on writing about Carly and the others’ daemons, but I didn’t feel like I could fit them all in the way I wanted them too in this story, so I made this a part of a series. Please keep an eye out for the second installment, ‘Pocket Full of Soul’, coming sometime soon!
> 
> Hope you’re having a great day!


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